Things Best Left Unremembered
by FoxO'Fire
Summary: AU: It's 2022 and the Winchesters are *gasp* middle aged! Dean runs into someone he never thought to see again and triggers a chain of events that dredges up the past and forces both brothers to reevaluate their future...like for the tenth time (you'd think they would be used to these curve balls)... This makes grandiose assumptions as to the ending of the current TV story arcs.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Hello all! This is my first attempt at publishing a Supernatural fanfic (I've written something else that is longer and my first idea, but I thought I'd start small). It is a three part story that I already have mostly written. The third chapter is stumping me a bit.

Please read and tell me what you think! This isn't beta'd (y'all know anyone good?) so all mistakes can be credited to my impatience.

I took the liberty of assuming a few things happen in the show...as you will soon see.

* * *

_**2022, Somewhere in Texas (because life is too short to try and understand that state's geography)**_

Dean Winchester had seen a whole helluva lot in his fairly eventful life and not much surprised him. After all, he'd been thrown from here to three different versions of the afterlife and managed to make it back to the land of the living from each one. All those years of steering the bus away from the cliff or as Sam coined it, "the Decade of Shit Happening" gave Dean a unique perspective. Although, he enjoyed cutting it down to "the Decade of Shit" just to guarantee an eye roll from his younger brother.

Things had settled down considerably since those traumatic and dramatic days. No looming apocalypse. No world eating monsters. No heaven. No hell. It allowed Dean to "settle down" - ugh he hated that term - which meant holding down a job as a mechanic and a nightly fifth of Jack. His man-o-letter brother was holed up in that library of secrets and would occasionally send Dean on a hunt, but now they mostly consisted of your garden variety troubled spirits or werewolves. No Apocalypse here, that shit was done with.

Dean's battles tended to be more domestic these days. On one front was an increase in blood pressure that had his eagle eyed brother tending to his diet now that he had a valid reason, the bastard. On another front were the all the aches and pains from the ghosts of injuries long past. On yet another front was the growth of a slight tire about his middle, which again, his bastard of a brother vowed to rid him of. The vagaries of middle age were not something Dean Winchester prepared for, expecting to be dead long ago, but here he was, still kicking it like a Rockette...well maybe not that high.

Despite his growing discomfort with middle age, Dean was still sure in his dealings with the world and knowledge of things that go bump in the night. So it was a damn big surprise to him that he was having such trouble with one single fucking vampire. Backing up in the fight, he tripped over some debris in the blind alley and landed on his tailbone.

_Ow! Let's go over this how luring the vampire into this messy alley was a good idea again? _

Of course his machete had flown out of his grasp and lay outside his reach. For the millionth time, Dean reminded himself to revisit that bungee idea as soon as he got home.

The vampire was advancing on him with a bloody leer. _Greedy fucker—just try it! _

Tensing his muscles in preparation to roll towards his fallen weapon, he abruptly found it unnecessary. The flash of silver, a meaty thunk, and one confused face eternally etched on a rolling head later and the vampire was dead. Dean looked up from his ungainly position to see a figure behind the slowly toppling remains.

"Thought you could use some help," came a flat voice through the inky darkness.

Carefully, Dean rolled to his feet and made his way to his machete, casually picking it up. He'd met others of their ilk while out on a hunt of course, but unless they were previously known to him, Dean was going to parlay with a weapon in hand. He recalled a chest full of buckshot as grim proof for his precaution.

"Yeah, man. Thanks." Dean warily eyed the figure who stepped into the oily light from a window high up. Dean was startled at the first sight—he was just a kid! The young man had dark hair cropped short and was wearing the traditional Hunter uniform of shabby army surplus and dirt.

It was eyes that drew Dean's attention. He recognized those eyes. He knew that hardness, that rage, he saw them in the mirror every morning. They were the eyes of a child forced to grow up too quick. Dusting his hands on his jeans to cover the awkward silence, he decided to open negotiations.

"I should have picked a cleaner alley to lure that blood sucker into huh?" Dean offered and sheathed his blade as a show of good faith.

"Good luck on finding a clean alley in this city and besides I've been tracking that damn thing for two weeks now. It didn't go anywhere clean." The kid said this with a weariness that belied his young look.

The kid's dark eyes kept skittering around the around the alley as if searching for further threats and Dean had a nagging sense that he knew him. _A previous hunt maybe?_ The darkness of the alley obscured the details of the kid's face, but Dean could make out a familiar curve of jaw, the mold of bone beneath the scalp and the set of his shoulders. Unbidden, a younger brighter face popped into his mind, this kid almost looked like...

"Ben!?" Dean burst out involuntarily.

Quickly the kid drew the darkness around him like a cape, Dean would have been impressed if he hadn't been struck dumb.

"How do you know my name?" Ben hissed.

"I knew your mother—the last time I saw you, you were a kid!" Dean couldn't believe the word vomit falling out his mouth. He was completely undone.

Ben moved back into the light where Dean could see his features harden into an unforgiving mask.

"If you knew my mother, then you'd know she died over ten years ago."

"She's dead?!" Dean exploded. Guilt and long buried desperation bubbled up inside him.

"Killed by a demon," Ben replied, not giving an inch of sympathy in his gaze.

"Wha- how—I don't get it. What happened?" Dean's mind raced. He'd left to keep them safe. He had Castiel erase their memories. He never looked back, because he knew if he did somehow the darkness would find them. _All of that protection was for nothing?_

"You're a hunter right? You should know about how demons work, or rather did, since they're mostly extinct now."

"When?" _How long did she have before my failure effectively killed her?_

"June of 2011," Ben quietly replied.

Dean jerked, _that was right after I finally cut them off, right after Cas erased their memories! They weren't even safe for a month! And now Ben was a hunter?!_

Struggling to get his racing thoughts and crushing emotions under control, Dean noticed that Ben's face was turning suspicious at the prolonged conversation.

"Look, I know you don't know me from a hole in the ground, but can we go somewhere and talk about this?"

"Why? Why should I tell you anything? You say you knew her and obviously you are a hunter - do you think you could have saved her?" Ben's barb hit home and Dean sucked in his breath as if poleaxed. He had to make this right somehow.

"I wish I could have saved her," Dean whispered, his head bowed with the weight of his guilt. It was a prayer to a god who no longer cared or listened. Ben hesitated before abruptly walking off.

"Well come on, if you're coming," he threw over his shoulder.

Dean looked up with a grimace and moved to follow the kid who used to look at him with awe and wonder, but who now didn't even have a memory of him.

* * *

Dean settled into the faded leather of the booth near the back of the honky tonk Ben had chosen. The kid a good taste. Feeling unsure where to start, Dean decided to rip the band aid off quick.

"So what happened?" Dean asked pulling a draw from his beer. He had a feeling he was going to get raging drunk tonight. Screw Sam and his "only 8 ounces a night."

"No, first you tell me how you knew my mother. I don't remember you at all," Ben countered suspiciously.

Seeking to sooth his hostility, Dean smoothly averred, "We became friends in Cicero, I was working a job there. After you moved, we mostly kept in touch through email." For some reason he didn't want to lie, but he couldn't tell Ben the whole truth either.

Ben wasn't buying it, and squinting in disbelief asked, "Hunters keep up with friends through email?"

"When they care about certain people."

"And yet you didn't know what happened to her?"

Damn, the kid was quick.

"We had a falling out," Dean hedged. "I wanted to keep in touch, but I thought it was better to just keep away."

Ben eyed him, seeming to dismiss the issue in favor of getting on with the night. "We had a car accident, and my mom was in the hospital. She was healing well, and set to be released. I noticed on the last day that she was acting funny, and well, long story short, she was possessed. I'm not going through the gory details. She told me we were going on a road trip and started ranting and raving about some guy. I didn't hear all of what she said, because she tied me up in the back seat and I was too scared to pay attention. Right outside of Cedar Rapids, that demon met a hunter who dispatched her back to hell. The demon left my mother's body for dead and Avery took me in because I didn't have any other family. He taught me to be a hunter, told me what happened to my mom, and here I am. Now, that'd do you? Can I go now?"

Dean obviously got the short gritty version of the story, but even that was enough to floor him. _Lisa was repossessed that quickly? I shouldn't have left her defenseless! I should have known! How could I ruin their lives like that? _

"Wait! Don't you even want to know who I am?" Dean was desperate to keep him there. Desperate for some connection to a life that he purposefully gave up. Even now the sting of it hadn't faded.

Ben didn't look as if he particularly cared about the identity of the hunter who knew his mother, he just wanted to get away from the memories this man was forcing him to relive. Ben relented however, after observing the deep emotion raging behind the hunter's mask of the older man.

Ben sighed, "Alright, I'll stay for this beer, but I'm done talking about my mother. Got that?" His face hardened to something Dean wished he'd never seen. "You know me, but I don't recall any hunters in Cicero...then again I was only seven or eight. What was the case? Oh, and what's your name?"

"You wouldn't have seen me there, because I stayed out of the way. It was a case of changelings. And my name is...Dean. Dean Winchester."

Dean grinned as Ben's jaw dropped and his eyes went buggy. Yep there it is, The Reaction, as Sam called it (the guy sure liked to label things...probably his geeky need to categorize, Dean further ruminated). Everyone who was in the life knew about the Winchesters, and they all usually reacted like this. _I suppose saving the world once or twice makes an impression._

But even as Dean observed The Reaction, he knew there was no deeper recognition, no memories of a life built together. One the one hand, Dean supposed he should be grateful that he would not have to deal with the repercussions of a returned memory, but on the other, deep down he was also disappointed. He almost wanted Ben to remember and condemn Dean for his sins, to let Ben's almost certain rage condone the guilt he felt. Dean was brought out of his reverie by the kid's sudden exclamation.

"I saved Dean Winchester from a vampire!? Ha!" Ben incredulously barked and started laughing like a loon.

"Hey, I was two seconds away from ganking that sonofabitch! Just because I was down, doesn't mean I was out." Dean was slightly hurt that Ben was laughing at him...seriously, he could stop any moment now.

Winding down his hilarity and wiping his eyes, Ben breathed, "Man I wish I had someone to tell about this. Me, Ben Braeden, saving Dean Winchester's life!"

Dean suddenly felt lower than a snake's belly. Ben didn't have anyone. He didn't mention that Avery guy again and Dean wasn't going to run him off by asking. He clearly did not want to talk about his mother. All Ben had was the hunt, which is a lonely lifestyle. Dean could certainly attest to that, even with his Sasquatch librarian of a brother. He took a swig of his beer to cover the lump growing in his throat. This kid...man, everything went wrong. Murphy's fucking law.

"Yeah well don't go around telling everyone, they'll think I've lost the touch in my old age," Dean grimly replied.

Ben stopped chuckling and straightened up. "I don't think you're old. Besides it could've happened to the best of us. Hell it did."

Shit, the kid was getting apologetic. That was totally unnecessary.

"Hey don't sweat it kid." Dean observed him critically for a moment. "Know how to play pool?"

Ben's expression flashed ecstatic, but then apparently remembered something important and looked at his watch.

"I can, but maybe a raincheck? I've gotta be somewhere, and I can't miss this appointment."

Dean felt compelled to question him further on what was so important this late at night, but let it go. Instead he grabbed a napkin and scrawled some numbers on it with a pen the waitress left behind.

"Yeah sure. Here, let me give you my number. Call anytime. I live in Lebanon, Kansas, so if you ever roll through give me a call."

Ben took the proffered napkin, eyes glowing with excitement.

"Ha! I've got Dean Winchester's number! You won't live to regret it!" He cajoled.

Ben started to thumb some bills out of his wallet, but Dean stopped him with a flippant wave.

"No, I've got it. Get to your big meeting."

"Alright! Thanks! Man, I'm glad I followed that blood sucker tonight!" And with that, Ben exited the booth and made his way to the door.

Dean watched him leave, feeling conflicted. He couldn't shake the sense that he was somehow tricking Ben into thinking that he was the honest hero; that he wasn't really a sneaky manipulative bastard.

The reality of heroes, of course, is very often far from the perceived expectations, but Dean hoped that he could shield Ben from that...shield him like he should have done so long ago. Maybe after all these years, he could finally attain that unrealistic redemption for all the lies and deception.

Dean shook his head to clear his maudlin thoughts and finished the dregs of his beer. It would be a long ride back to Kansas, and there would be time enough for contemplating the weight of the world on the way there.

* * *

Dean banged on the door waiting impatiently for his brother to let him in. There was only one key to the secret lair and it wasn't like they could go down to a hardware store to get a copy of a magic key made.

With a sudden screech, the door whipped open to reveal Sam looking disheveled and irate.

"What?" Sam shortly asked.

"What?!" Dean repeated indignantly.

They just stared at each for a second, not moving.

"What? What do you mean what? Let me in bitch," Dean belligerently prodded.

Sam studied him for a moment and then rudely turned away, a muttered "Jerk" under his breath, leaving Dean to follow as he pleased. His gigantor brother had really gotten snippy in his middling years. God forbid he be diverted from research.

Dean walked into the library swiping a half full whiskey decanter and a crystal tumbler as he passed. It was at the same level as when he left.

"Man, you had a break? You need to get out and have some fun."

"I'm busy Dean." Sam always managed to fill that phrase with such patronizing tone, that Dean could only chuckle.

"Hey man, if it shrivels up from lack of use, don't say I didn't warn you."

Sam's response was a simple but eloquent finger of the middle variety, before returning his concentration to the book in front of him.

Dean took up position in the doorway studying his hunched over brother, trying to reconcile the memory of a gawky youth with the hard bitten middle aged man before him. He supposed that his run in with Ben had left him in a nostalgic mood.

Sam hadn't changed much over the years, not really. His skin had grown closer to his bones, deepening the grooves of his muscles, like he'd been thrown in a kiln and baked to a hard finish. His absurd hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Dean had threatened on more than one occasion to cut it off with the demon knife, convinced that was only way to rid Sam of that ridiculously long hair. But other than reading glasses perched on his pointy know it all nose - the only nod to an aging body - Sam still looked like Sam.

"Guess who I saw in Texas?" Dean asked lightly, as if they had a great and varied set of acquaintances so as to cause confusion – like he'd run into someone at that grocery store and had a bit of a catch up. Dean idly entertained this fantasy for a nanosecond before mentally shaking himself of the unrealistic thoughts. Everyone they knew was dead, or might as well be, for all they saw them. Well of course there was always...

"Garth come back from his tour of the Caribbean?" Sam sarcastically snorted, turning a page.

Garth had decided to take an extended vacation after they had closed the gates of Heaven. That was seven years ago, and he didn't shown any signs of return. Dean liked to picture the lanky oddball in a tropical shirt and trucker hat all sunburnt to hell and lazing away the day in a hammock with a Pina Colada dangling from his fingertips. He always was a girl drink drunk.

"No, not Garth. But another blast from my shitty past."

"Well try to not to be so vague -"

"It was Ben," Dean bluntly interrupted. The statement fell upon thick silence.

Sam turned towards him, eyebrows popped to his hairline and finally giving his full attention, books forgotten.

"And he saved my life. He's a hunter."

Sam's jaw dropped. Dean contemplated making up more outrageous statements just to see how far he could get Sam to react. But the night wasn't getting any shorter, and Dean felt exhausted after his drive.

"Ben is a hunter?! How? What -"

Dean cut off Sam's rambling queries to get to the point. "Lisa was repossessed almost immediately after I left her, and they were left defenseless because I had Cas wash their memories. A hunter named Avery exorcized the demon from Lisa's body, but it was already too late. He raised Ben to the life, since Ben had no other relatives..." Dean finished lamely.

He looked up from under his lashes to see Sam gaping at him, his mouth trying to form words, but no sound escaping. Sam's patented worry line appeared on his brow and his eyes narrowed at his older brother.

"What did you tell him?"

"You think I was gonna tell him I washed his brain and that I'm the cause his mother is dead?" Dean asked cynically.

"Wha- No, but we're going to get back to that. What did you tell him about us?" Sam's lizard eyed glare was reaching epic proportions.

"Oh that. I just told him my name, which he recognized by the way, and that I live in Lebanon," Dean deflected. "And I gave him my number," he added under his breath.

"You what?!"

"Come on, it's just a phone number. It's not like I drew him a layout of the interior, and besides even I have to wait outside for your grumpy ass to let me in! What's your problem?"

"My problem? My problem is that Ben randomly turns up out of the blue, he's a hunter, and he saved your life. I know you will undoubtedly feel obligated to seek him out and right some wrongs, which will lead him right back here. None of this sounds suspicious to you?"

"Really, Sam. You've been cooped up in here way too long and what about all the other people we've had in here?"

"I'm skeptical about the timing. It's too serendipitous."

"What the John Cusack movie?"

Sam rolled his eyes to the ceiling and silently mouthed a prayer for patience - _really, why would Dean know that movie?._ Of course, no one was checking the messages up there, but it was a force of habit.

"Look Dean, I know you've been feeling out of sorts lately. We aren't getting any younger, and I do realize that someone is going to take over for us here. We don't have any blood relatives, so that means we'll have to choose someone. With that in mind, I'm just a little cautious about long lost almost-sons that reappear with a convenient story guaranteed to tug at your heart strings."

Dean took a sip from his mostly untouched whiskey and thoughtfully observed his brother over the rim. He abruptly threw back the rest of the liquor and harshly set down the empty tumbler.

"Sam, I gave him my number, but I'm not going to seek him out. If I he ever calls, I'll treat him like any other hunter we've helped out over the years. That unwad your panties?" It sounded like a question, but his tone was final.

"Dean -" Sam sighed, but Dean used the simple expedient of walking away to cut him off.

"I'm going to take a shower. Order some pizza and go pick it up," Dean threw over his shoulder.

Sam dejectedly watched as his brother went to his room – the discussion was clearly over. Maybe he _was_ spending too much time with the books. His head was so full of arcane theories and ancient languages, he sometimes forgot how to interact with his own brother.

Dean hadn't shown such feeling in a long while and Sam just shut him down. His brother had been operating on bravado and superficial emotions for too long. Sam mentally kicked himself for being too far stuck up his own ass. Really, what was so suspicious about Ben showing up? It was bound to happen at some point, if he was a hunter.

Maybe Ben would call and Dean could get some form of resolution. Yeah, as soon as Hell freezes over (not that they would ever know). Sam could only hope that if Ben ever did call it wasn't some sort of set up, and he'd tamper his trepidations. He also hoped he'd never have to say "I told you so."

Sam resolved to make it up to Dean with a large Meat Supreme. The fastest way to his good graces was through his stomach and Sam knew Dean would forgive and forget as soon as he was full. But just to be safe, he'd get some pie too.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Lebanon, Several weeks later...**_

Dean nudged open the apartment's door and quickly checked the alarms he'd set up for unusual activity, a habit born from years of experience, despite the lack of an immediate threat. Everything looked as it should be, so he entered with a sigh of relief. Being out in the open always made him uncomfortable.

Dean rented an apartment in town to keep up appearances, especially since he worked at this tiny hamlet's only garage. After all, what was the point of a super secret lair if everyone knew where you lived. You can't bring home lady friends and say "Guess what? Me and my brother live in a library full of ancient secrets. Don't tell anyone. Wanna get horizontal?" Not that he'd even need to question them, at that point, it was already a done deal.

Still, he liked his bed at the HQ better. _Ahhh, the memory foam..._

Dean looked about the bare rooms, resigned himself to long night of late night infomercials – surely there was a supernatural reason for those? - and moved to the kitchen for a beer. He did not have much hope that the alcohol would soothe his tense mind because when had it ever worked before? He just settled for a slight numbing.

For the past few weeks, since he ran into Ben in fact, insistent memories kept skirting the periphery of his thoughts. Long forgotten faces and towns came and went, but always one name kept pecking away at his defenses.

_Lisa. _

Her name cut through his mind razor sharp and he involuntarily flinched. Dean grasped the edge of the kitchen counter top and leaned into it, grappling for control. He breathed heavily thought his nose and clenching his teeth, made the decision to finally confront it. Whatever it was. His own thoughts, maybe? Dean worried he might be going a little crazy.

_Lisa. _

Dean shut his eyes as a flood of memories and emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Pictures came to him in flashes with dizzying speed. _Lisa opening the door. Lisa's face as he told her he might not make it back. Lisa in bed. Lisa smiling up at him. Lisa hugging Ben before school. Lisalisalisa..._

_I'm so sorry Lisa. I was trying to protect you. Castiel - _

And there it was, the bigger pachyderm in the room of Dean's mind. The biggest box in the darkest corner with the strongest chains imprisoned that emotional tsunami. Now it was out and Dean slid to the ground, his back to the cabinets and thankful that Sam was not here to witness this breakdown. Dean grimly reflected that it was probably a long time coming, before the familiar rage, fear, and desperation crashed over him.

Dean couldn't help but think back to the day he asked Cas to erase Lisa and Ben's memories. How he felt betrayed at the time, by the one being he thought incapable of deceit. And then how lost and scared Cas was after he took on Sam's Satan vision. Even worse was the day they said goodbye forever, when Dean shut the gates of Heaven and consequently Cas behind them as well.

They gave Cas a choice, to be locked away forever in Heaven, or to fall to earth and live as a human. Dean never understood Cas' decision and only realized how possessive he felt when Cas chose Heaven. The Castiel they knew was as much Dean's creation as God's. He was the one to teach and guide Cas through the perils of humanity, changing the angel in ways Dean was even unaware of. How could he want to go back to Heaven? Still, Dean had to respect the decision, even as he felt the loss keenly.

Dean stared dully down at his hands as years of repressed emotion fought for dominance. Tears slid out the corners of his eyes and fell unnoticed to his shirt. He knew there was no catharsis coming, no resolution. He was just going to feel shitty for the rest of the night. It was time to assess for wounds and suck it up. With that realization, Dean mused that whiskey was a better companion than beer, standing to reach for a bottle on the counter top.

As Dean filled a glass with too much whiskey, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Expecting it to be Sam, he answered with a curt, "What?"

The voice on the other end however, was not the surly tones of his brother. A much younger and scared sounding voice asked, "Um, is this Dean?"

"You got him. Where did you get my number?"

"Uh - you gave it to me...it's Ben."

Dean brightened at this, but felt something was off. There was a tension to Ben's voice that suggested he wasn't alone on his end.

"Is everything okay?"

"Well, I – I, um, could use your help." Ben replied.

Dean heard some scuffling in the background followed by the hiss of Ben's indrawn breath. Yeah, something was definitely off.

"Where are you?" Dean bit out.

"I'm in town. Lebanon, right?" Ben's voice caught on a groan of pain. Dean instantly went into hunting mode. Mentally conjuring all the places in town he could be and calculating how fast he could get to them. There were the warehouses by the tracks at the south end of town and sure enough Ben's next statement cinched it.

"I'm at Elm and South Railway. Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't -" Ben didn't get to finish his sentence as the line went dead.

Dean immediately knew this was a trap, but couldn't place a finger on who would be doing this, and why now? It didn't matter though, because Ben was in trouble and that was reason enough. Dean mentally shored up the ditches of his earlier breakdown, grabbed his keys and dialed the only number in his phone.

* * *

Sam sat on his usual side of the Impala and reflected on how right _this_ felt. Whatever _this_ was. He didn't go on hunts very often with Dean anymore, and when he did it was more in an advisory capacity. Here in the Impala the rules were set, and on the hunt the roles defined. It was familiar and Sam recognized he enjoyed the feeling of control and purpose. For a second time in long while, he though Dean might be right, and he should get out more.

Sam glanced to his left to see the fury emanate from his brother as they sped through the wet evening. It always fascinated him to watch Dean in operation. To see the cold calculation that promised destruction like ice destroys rock – sure and inevitable. To see him work with his fists in the same manner that Michelangelo had worked a chisel. Dean hadn't lost any of his skills in getting older, only honed them, making him frighteningly dangerous.

Sam idly wondered if Dean would eventually harden to the point of no return. Already his usual deflection techniques of humor and distraction were weary and brittle – he was losing that bright shiny Dean luster. Tucking away the distracting thoughts, Sam felt sorry for whoever decided to lure them into a trap using Ben. There were so many worms in that can, Sam doubted even Dean knew the total volume.

Sam cleared his throat which earned a glare from Dean, as if he knew what was coming. "What do you think has Ben?"

Dean had simply shown up, told him Ben was being held at the south end of town and to get in the car.

"How would I know?" Dean growled.

"Are we going to do any recon first or we just going to barge in like you want to?"

Dean threw him an mutinous look before the anger drained from his face and was replaced with cold determination.

"I'm not going to dignify that with a response. All I know is, whoever has Ben better get ready to die, because I have an arsenal in the trunk with their name on it."

Sam decided his silence would be appreciated, and so merely turned towards the window to watch the landscape speed by. Not too long after – it was tiny town – they were pulling into a parking lot for a row of warehouses. In the past, they housed the businesses associated with the railroad nearby, but were vacated when the line was discontinued, leaving behind an industrial ghost town of buildings.

Sam peered through the foggy windshield into the darkness. "Which one do you think it is?"

"I'm guessing it's the one with the only other car out front," Dean said with a wry grin, as if to point out Sam's lack of awareness. Sam just rolled his eyes. Dean continued, "I've been in these warehouses before. There's a front office that leads to a back open space. Back then it was filled with crates and shelves. I'm not sure what's there now."

"So front office, and then what?"

"Let's hope whoever set this trap up was stupid enough to hide in a warehouse full of junk."

"That's your plan!?" Sam shouted. "That's not much better than just barging in."

"When have our plans ever worked anyway?" Dean retorted with a grim smile. "Look I'm going in. I'll be quiet and careful. What I am not going to do, is leave Ben here."

Sam sighed and turned away from his brother. He knew that Ben would somehow end up causing trouble. Whether or not it was his fault remained to be seen.

"Well, you aren't going in alone. Salt or silver?" Sam asked referring to the guns in the trunk loaded with different versions of bullets and shells.

"We take it all. And Sam?" Dean asked, giving Sam a gentle cuff on the shoulder. "Try not to get hurt. That'd ruin my night."

* * *

Dean padded silently among the rusty shelves left over from the previous owner. Their contents were littered about the place, creating a jumbled mess in which to hide. The asshat who orchestrated this was definitely stupid, Dean mused. It was child's play to get around undetected.

He motioned his hand to move Sam forward. They had covered about half of the warehouse with no sign of trap. There was an itch on Dean's neck that he refused to acknowledge. It was superstitious of him, he knew, but Dean still inexplicably felt that scratching an itch like this, particularly now, was an omen of pain, maybe even death.

Focusing his concentration forward he felt a disturbance in the air and noticed there was a light source that shouldn't be there. He came to a row of shelves that served to block him from view, but allowed him to inch around and observe. Sam crept up behind him and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. Dean looked up at him to see that Sam was silently indicating an area out of his view. Dean crouched down to a better level, and suddenly a tableau out his nightmares came into focus.

On the other side of the shelves from Dean and Sam was an aisle where all they all intersected, leaving a large square of open space. Ben sat tied to a chair, his head hanging down, and blood running down the side of his neck. A dumpy middle aged woman in a brown uniform of some sort slowly circled the chair, every now and then leaning in to whisper something in Ben's ear. Seeing this elicited no response, she pulled out a wicked looking knife and started making nicks on his forearms.

Sam crouched to his brother's level and turned to Dean with a worried frown. Dean just shook his head and held up a hand, indicating to let him think. He turned back to the scene. Something was bothering him about this. Obviously, he was the target of this little trap, so why hurt Ben now, before she knew they had arrived? There was something about the taunting manner of this woman that was familiar, like she was playing with her food. Ghosts didn't do that, neither vampires or werewolves. They were all about going straight to the kill.

Dean studied her face darkened by shadows and a memory clicked into place. A loved face holding a knife on a scared boy. Taunting insults intended to cause collateral damage. A limp body with a fatal wound. _Shit, we're dealing with a demon! _

When they had closed the gates of Hell all those years ago, much to their disappointment, not all the demons that were topside were flung back to the pit. Some managed to stay corporeal and earth bound, but that didn't mean they still couldn't be exorcised or killed. It just meant the demons were now scared of getting sent back and stuck. They were rare these days and tended to stay under the radar, ever aware of their dwindling number.

What was most surprising to Dean, was the audacity of this demon to seek out the hunters who would most definitely dispatch her straight back to Hell. He turned to Sam and used their well practiced short hand version of sign language to relay this information. Sam's eyebrows shot to his hairline when he finally understood.

"Demon?" Sam mouthed, his jaw hanging open in shock.

Dean rolled his eyes and reached out to snap Sam's mouth shut. "The net," he whispered and began sidling to the corner. Gripping his shotgun full of rock salt shells, he angled out to see the demon had her back to him. Aiming with precision, well as precise as one can be with a sawed off shotgun, he readied to fire.

"Dean. So nice of you to join the party." The demon turned and simply stood there with an eerie smile on her face. "Is that your giraffe of a brother I hear stumbling about back there?"

Sam, realizing the jig was up, stepped around the corner to stand next to Dean, a net gun loosely hung in his hands.

"Ah yes, there you are. Our little gate closing hero."

Sam shifted uncomfortably at his side and Dean subtly adjusted his stance to lean closer.

"Well you got us here...Pearl," Dean said reading the name tag on her chest. She snorted and looked down at the tag.

"You like that? I do. Makes me sound all pure and glowy," Pearl sighed with a blissed out look on her face.

"I'm assuming this is some dastardly plot, so why don't we get on with it?" Dean affected a bored demeanor, but lifted his gun higher.

"Oh, not so fast," Pearl laughed and reached down to pull Ben's head back by his hair, straining his neck muscles. "I want him to watch this. He's got know. He's got to understand. After all, you took it all away."

Dean felt chills race up his spine at her meaning. He studied her straggly blonde hair and overweight body, gauging how fast he could get to her based on her meatsuit's limitations. He kept his eyes away from Ben's face, not wanting to see the bruised and bloody marks left there by the demon.

"Wake up, little bit! Time to meet your daddy," Pearl cooed in a singsong voice into Ben's ear.

Ben groaned and his eyelids flickered. She released her hold on Ben's head which flopped down to his chest with a pained moan. Slowly he raised his eyes back up to Dean.

"Dean...I'm sorry...this was my fight -"

"Eh eh eh little bit! That's enough out of you. You've been tracking me for five years now, so your part is done," Pearl snidely interrupted. "Anyway it's not you I'm after. Thanks for leading me to the Winchesters though. That was real helpful of you!"

"You killed my mother!" Ben burst out, not really following the demon's words.

"Well now that's a matter of perspective. Wouldn't you agree Dean?" Pearl grabbed Ben's face from behind and forced his head towards Dean in time to see a wealth of indistinguishable emotions cross the older man's face.

"Look, if your beef is with me and Sam, then just let the kid go," Dean bit out through his teeth. Sam slid closer to his brother's side and put a hand on his shoulder. Pearl laughed crazily again and gently laid her knife on Ben's neck.

"Well now, isn't this a fun family reunion. Only I don't think Ben is quite aware how much family he lost, now is he?" Pearl taunted, drawing her knife softly down the side of Ben's face, who bared his teeth in a grimace, and valiantly tried to mask his fear. Dean twitched restlessly.

"What is it you want?" Sam impatiently asked when it looked like his brother was about to do something stupid.

"You two, oh how you've royally screwed up. Sam I'll get to you in minute, but Dean! You took away my only chance and that is worse than any closed gate!" Pearl practically screamed. Her sanity, what little of it there was, seemed to be slipping.

"Who the hell are you lady?" Dean asked getting fed up with the conversation.

"You wouldn't remember would you? I was just some low life demon who was in your way. All I had to do was keep the bitch in place and away from you and Crowley said I could save my own boy from the pit. Then you two lumberjacks with hero complexes show up and ruin it all!" she ended screeching in rage with Ben looking up at her in confusion.

That same memory surfaced in Dean's thoughts again. So this was the demon that possessed Lisa and killed her. His features hardened into a impassive mask as he observed the scene for an opening to attack.

"You are going to blame me for a deal gone south with Crowley? Well I got news for you, deals with Crowley always go south. Sam." Dean nudged his brother with a signal to ready the net and raised his own shotgun.

Sensing that an attack was imminent, the demon suddenly escaped in a cloud of black smoke from her body's mouth. The woman's body fell to dirty concrete floor and Dean watched helplessly as the smoke whirled closer to Ben.

"No! Ben!" Dean screamed and lunged towards the younger man who could do nothing but stare at the cloud of smoke as it grotesquely forced its way into his mouth.

"Ben!" both brothers yelled and knelt by the chair the his was tied to.

Ben's eyes snapped open to reveal all black orbs that Dean could see his reflection in. The kid grinned evilly back at him.

"What are you going to do now Dean? Kill him?" Pearl mocked in Ben's voice. "Like I can't get out of these ropes and use this body for all manner of evil deeds. Then you'd have to kill him."

Even as the demon was speaking, the chair fell to pieces and tried to use Ben's body to make an escape. Sam was ready with the net gun however, and a nylon woven devil's trap spun around the possessed body, taking Pearl/Ben to the floor with a howl of rage.

Dean eyed his invention for a minute as his adrenaline cooled and turned to his brother. "Well that worked better than I thought it would."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Wanna get this over with? Is it your turn or mine?"

"Oh this one is definitely mine," Dean's face hardened, looking down at the demon in Ben, who glared back up at him through the rope. "_Exorcizamus te, Omnis Immundus Spiritus..."_

"You think this over!? I will find a way! You took away my family, I'll take away yours!" Pearl closed Ben's eyes and began twitching, like some forced battle was waging inside the body.

Dean faltered, but continued, "_Omnis Satanica Potestas, Omnis Incursio Infernalis Adversarii..."_

The demon began to curl up in pain, but spoke nonetheless, "Ha! You took away my son, but I'll give yours back! Only..."

"_Omnis Congregatio et Secta Diabolica, Ergo Draco Maledicte..." _Dean never stopped droning, but lowered his volume to hear the last words of the crazy bitch.

"...he won't be the same...and he'll hate you for it!" Pearl screamed in between bouts of pain.

"_Ut Ecclesiam Tuam Secura, Tibi Facias Libertate Servire, Te Rogamus..." _Dean paused knowing the pain for the demon was amplified. They locked eyes for a moment, rage versus rage.

"...it's my gift to you..." she panted, feeling her earthly end drawing right fucking nigh. To Dean, it sounded more like a curse.

"_Audi Nos. _Bye bitch," Dean breathed and watched as a column of black smoke erupted from Ben's mouth and disappeared back to hell...forever this time.


End file.
